My WordPress is the outlet of things I will never let out into the real world. Or at least, my mouth. I was trying to write last night after such a long time, and then afterwards, I got really frustrated, I cried myself to sleep, because I absolutely can’t get anything out. Turns out hatred thwarts creativity. I realized I last got inspired before all this crap went down. Before it all got really sour. That was, before our house got sold. Somehow, that marked the epitome of the whole disaster for me. I guess that’s because it’s a concrete, solid thing. A solid proof of what really happened. Everyone around me saw how I fell. I don’t think anyone really made an effort to catch me, and I don’t blame them, because I didn’t make an effort to get to know them either. It just sucks that at times like this, no one’s really gonna stand by you, no one’s gonna be easily accessible to text, to tell that you’re feeling like crap and you wanna cry. Nope. They’re all so busy being rich and having fun and going out. Every day is a new adventure for them. For me, every day is another reminder that my life is crap. If someone is gonna stand by you, it’s because he wants something from you.
Hatred, it’s a powerful thing. I’m only realizing that now. My life has been guided by hatred for the past two to three years. Longer, I assume, except nothing’s triggering that tiger beneath me. Now that life is its trigger, it’s attacking me so fast, I can’t even get anything done.